Incalescent
by peterquill
Summary: Paul closed his eyes, and if he concentrated long enough, he could almost imagine her next to him. One-Shot. Language and phone sex.


Things could be worse, Paul justified. She could be across the country. But she was only across the state - as if that was any fucking better.

He had gotten a cell phone just for her. _You should get a phone for yourself,_ she had frowned at him. _Don't waste your money on me. _But after pulling out the hunk of Samsung junk, she squinted at it and shrugged. It wasn't anything fancy, not that he liked fancy. He'd never had a cell phone before, but it was the only way to keep constant contact with her.

He broke it the first time he phased because he forgot it was in his pocket. He was so nervous that Angela would call him or text him or just fucking _need_ him that he ran to her house. She was home alone, watching a movie and eating left overs when he knocked on the door frantically, and to ease his worried heart, she gave him a cookie and a hug. He pecked her cheek and promised he'd get another one first thing the next day.

He treated the phone with more care this time, making sure he put it in a safe place before he changed forms. Like hell if he was ever going to loose contact with Angela again.

There was a lot of nice stuff that came along with having a cell phone. Like calling anyone he wanted to at the moment he wanted to call them. If he wanted to call off of work, he damn well could. If he wanted to order five pizzas without getting off the couch, he could feel like a goddamn king with his feet up and do just that. He could even call Sam and his other pack brothers, though the younger guys didn't like it too much.

"Texting _is_ better," Seth finally told him, and Paul felt like an idiot. But then he had to figure out how to text, and that was entirely different train wreck and overall not a very pleasant experience. He hated change, even if it was minor. He had to pay for another phone plan.

Cell phones were kind of like the telepathy he shared with his brothers while they were wolves, only better, because you could chose what you wanted to say and not have your entire brain laid out for others to examine. It was also worse, because you couldn't really tell what tone of voice the other was using and how the hell could he have known that "k" meant "this conversation is now over?"

Texting was better when it was with Angela. She was undeniably sweet and made him feel quite warm and lovely whenever she texted him. Like he was special, even it was something as simple as a "xo." Paul felt more comfortable calling her because he liked the sound of her voice, but texted her because she liked it. Who know entire conversations could go on like this? He had to buy another cell plan. Fuck phone companies, man.

His mood about it turned around when he found out about sexting.

"It's kinda..." Angela gave a vague shrug.

"_Sexy?_" She sipped at her drink. "C'mon, it's just us."

"Yeah... It's just - I don't know." She laughed. "Would you believe it if I told you I was nervous of the other guys getting a hold of your cell?" Paul frowned; he hadn't thought about that.

It was a couple of hours since that conversation that he received a message from Angela. He had just assumed that she wasn't interested in it all all, which he could understand. And, after all, nothing was better than the real thing. But after opening the picture, he stared at it a moment before dropping the phone.

"Never saw you in that angle before," he breathed into her ear a mere hour later. She grinned.

"Well, you're very welcome - I took probably fifty pictures to have the perfect shot. So."

"You should be a photographer."

"And you should be taking off your pants."

However, no mater the numerous conversations and calls they would have to tighten the distance, they amounted to ant hills in the end. Nothing was the same when she wasn't near him, and as of right now, she was in fuck-all Newport with her grandma.

He could call her right now, but he remembered when Angela stressed just one word to him when they started dating. _Space_. Though he was pretty shit at it, he understood. He obeyed, even if he really didn't want to sometimes. But he respected Angela's wishes more than his own desires, and was sometimes grateful for the time apart as well. It was a chance to breathe and remember they were their own persons.

It was all good. Until it wasn't.

Paul couldn't stop thinking about her.

He was laying in bed, staring at the ceiling as he was trying to go to sleep. But Angela hasn't texted him all day, and it was when darkness crept into his room that he thought the worst.

He told himself when to breathe. He fought the urge valiantly - for perhaps two more minutes. And then he just couldn't take it any longer.

"Paul?" Angela whispered. It was past midnight.

"Yeah. Hey." He waited for her to respond, and internally cringed. "Is this...a bad time?"

"Well. No. It's just that _Wiggle_ blasted out of my phone, and these walls are paper-thin."

He laughed. "Wait, so that's my ringtone?"

"Don't get too cocky. I can always change it to _Friday_."

"Please don't do that."

"I won't," she said with a smile in her voice. "So... There wasn't any real reason why you called, huh?"

"Uh."

"No impending vampire attacks?"

"No?"

"No virus outbreaks?"

"No..."

"Hm," she thought aloud. "So...?"

"You know why I called you." _I really fucking miss you._ "How was your day with your grandma?"

"Good. She taught me how to make these really good cookies with peanut butter - you'll like them."

"Hell yeah." Silence was nothing new during their phone calls, and he breathed in it for a few moments. "Um. What are you wearing?"

She snorted. "_Really?_ I'm at my Gram's!"

"Ange, if I wanted to know what your grandma was wearing, I would have asked."

"Please never do."

"Please send me to a psychologist if I do." He chuckled. "And...? What's it this time, Fruit of the Loom or Victoria's Secret?"

"Maybe a bit of both."

Paul closed his eyes, and if he concentrated long enough, he could almost imagine her next to him. "Just like always."

"There's nothing wrong with hip hugging panties."

"Never said there was. Especially when they're on my floor."

She laughed again, and he thought about the way her hair spilled on his sheets. "Is this going down the path that I think it's going?"

"Maybe." He grinned, switching sides. "What color?"

"Well, my underwear is a pretty boring color: white, and - "

"White's not boring, that's sexy."

"I'm sure. But my bra's actually pretty nice. It's new. Gram took me shopping, which was kind of embarrassing and kind of awesome. And she bought this really nice bra at VS for like, forty dollars. It's pink, with some black lace."

"A new bra? Sounds exciting."

"Shut up, it really is!"

"No, I'm being serious! It's for sure, like, _totally_ awesome. Girl."

"Don't be such a dick. Or you sure as hell aren't ever going to see this very cute bra."

"How could you."

Angela finally started cracking up, Paul laughing after her. While it was nice to be with her in person, there was something very different about being on the phone with your significant other. Relaxing. Sweet. _Sexy_.

"I miss you," he finally said. He was always the first to say it.

"I know." She paused. "I missed you, too."

"Really?" He could feel himself grin.

"Yeah. Even though it's only been, like, two days."

"You know I could run to you and bethere in less than two hours."

She paused for a moments, and Paul began to think she was actually thinking about it. "I...know. But when I get back, it'll make it better, you know?"

He sighed, disgruntled. "Yeah. I do."

"Don't be so sour. Would it make you feel better to know that I took my _very sexy bra_ off?"

He tried not to jump the gun too quickly, and gripped the sheets. "That's too bad. I didn't even get to see it."

"Funny. Hm. What... What would you have done if it was still on?"

"Taken it off." She laughed at his short answer, but knew that wasn't quite the answer either of them wanted to hear. "I would have slipped the straps off. First one, then the other. Kissed your shoulders. Especially your freckles."

"I remember that one time when you traced them with your tongue."

_Jesus_. "Yeah, me too. Would you want me to do that, too?"

"Yes. In turn, I'd touch you... Your arms. Run my hands over your skin." Paul felt goosebumps pop on his flesh as if she were right there next to him, touching him in the exact way he pictured it in his mind. "Maybe I'd run by tongue over your tattoo."

"Shit." He breathed, or tried to. "Please tell me you'd be on top. With your glasses on."

She laughed. "I wouldn't be a proper _dirty_ librarian if I wasn't, right?"

"And your panties...?"

"Oh, they wouldn't be coming off." She paused. "We'd just have to push them off to the side to get them out of the way."

"Holy shit."

"I miss you."

"Yeah. Me too."

"Paul? Are you touching yourself?" she breathed, her voice like silk running over him.

"I - ...yes."

"Good. So am I."

**Fuck.** "Ange..."

"I'm going to hang up now," she whispered. He groaned, rolling his eyes. He hated her, but he also loved her. "And when you see me Monday night, I expect this to be continued."

"Right. 'Kay."

"Love you."

"I love you, too."

"Good night, Paul," she whispered.

"Night," he said, the line went dead. "Fucking shit." Climbing out of his bed, he went to the shower to finished himself off, images of Angela flooding through his mind. There were a lot of nice stuff that came with having a cell phone. Thank God he finally had one.

* * *

**It's been a while since I have written Twilight FF, but these two have been tugging on my heart strings for a while now. Hope you guys have enjoyed, and feel free to review! I'm a sucker for writing out cute, awkward phone sex. **


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